‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. Do you promise to do this?" "Solemnly," rejoined the carpenter. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. . “Splendid it must be to be a composer.
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